


Bad Ideas

by Starlinghue



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Comfort Sex, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Internal Conflict, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Missing Scene, Past Jesse Pinkman/Jane Margolis - Freeform, References to Illness, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlinghue/pseuds/Starlinghue
Summary: Fresh out of rehab and stuck on Walt's couch, Jesse finds himself unable to sleep.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Comments: 14
Kudos: 137





	Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally started this show back in November, fashionably late, finished it within three weeks, and have not been able to stop thinking about it ever since. This fic started off as a drabble of a missing scene 4 Days Out, and then it stretched on into the start of season three, because I think it must've been a wildly awkward couple of days for Walt and Jesse sharing that one-bedroom apartment.
> 
> I was planning on making this mostly platonic at first, because I think within the timeline of the show, season five is ostensibly when it would've made narrative sense for them to actually start hooking up. But I digress, the idea of them having a passionate one night fling in the early days was too fun to not write.
> 
> Title is from Girl in Red's song Bad Idea. Enjoy the fic!

It was somewhere close to two in the morning, and Jesse was _tired_. More tired and sleep-fogged than he'd ever been in his life, which was saying something, since he'd definitely been awake longer on a few crystal binges. Bitterly, he attributed his exhaustion to his temporary sobriety. There wasn't exactly time to smoke a bowl while Walt was hovering over his shoulder and demanding he stay on schedule every two seconds.

They had been cooking in shifts non-stop for the past seventeen hours, and no matter what Walt's ridiculous quota was, Jesse wasn't about to start another batch before he passed out. He needed a full night's sleep, not the bullshit power naps he and Walt been living off of since they'd gone and parked their asses out in the middle of nowhere. 

The hardass in question was sleeping at the other end of the RV, having folded the cot to its full size before settling on one side, expecting that Jesse would join him when the cook was over. Obviously, neither of them had liked that idea very much. They'd been managing just fine with taking turns, and would have been a lie if Jesse had said that he didn't feel completely smothered by Walt's presence in the RV already— sleeping next to the guy sure as hell wasn't going to alleviate the situation. But Walt valued efficiency over comfort, and Jesse had grown too exhausted to complain, and too petty to sleep on the floor.

With a heavy sigh, he turned off all the emergency lights and did his best to settle in on his side of the cot as quietly as he could. The whole thing would be much less awkward if Walt stayed asleep, snoring and coughing occasionally instead of outright grumbling an acknowledgement that Jesse was lying there next to him. They really didn't need to address how wildly uncomfortable this whole situation was.

The coughing worried Jesse, though he wouldn't admit it. Walt wasn't much of a loud snorer, hell, not any worse than Badger or Skinny Pete, so Jesse hadn't been too worried about having to sleep through that, but the coughs were brutal. Loud, awful, rattling sounds, choking gasps for air. It was all too reminiscent of Ginny's later days, so Jesse tried not to dwell on them. Which was kind of impossible when Walt broke into another fit every ten minutes.

As luck would have it, Walt started hacking again right before Jesse could lose his last shred of consciousness. Only this time, his coughs didn't titter off and fade back to snores, they got _worse_. The whole cot trembled as Walt choked and spluttered, and suddenly his breathing became erratic— he'd woken up.

In an effort to be polite, Jesse lay completely still, waiting it out. They had their backs to each other, so it's not like Walt was coughing right in his face, but still, it was impossible to ignore the sounds. They kept getting louder and louder, and Walt's shaky breathing wasn't exactly easing Jesse's anxiety. Slowly, he turned over in the cot, his concern taking hold of him. He wasn't even sure what he was doing until his hand had aimlessly reached out, settling down between what seemed to be Walt's shoulder blades. Without thinking, Jesse clapped him on the back, hoping it was a comforting thing to do, practically on autopilot remembering all the times he had helped Ginny through a rough spell.

Walt's spine went rigid under the touch, jolting as if Jesse had prodded him with a cattle iron. Quickly, Jesse withdrew his hand, realizing he had crossed some kind of line. But he couldn't bring himself to turn away, not when Walt was still struggling to breathe. It wasn't long before he was coughing again, each noise more wretched than the last.

"Hey," Jesse mumbled, peering through the dark, trying to make out the shape of the body next to him. "Sit up and put your arms above your head."

"What?" Walt rasped, and judging by the way his weight shifted, Jesse guessed that he had moved to face him.

"Sit up," Jesse repeated, and then did as much to demonstrate, though he was almost certain that Walt couldn't see him, so he relied on the creak of the cot to indicate his actions. "Lift your arms up over your head, like you're on a rollercoaster or some shit. It'll open up the air-flow."

Struggling, Walt managed to get himself upright, but as soon as he did another wave of coughs rolled out of him. This time, he didn't flinch when Jesse patted his back to help him through it, and he even allowed Jesse to grapple at his forearms, pulling them skywards.

A few more rumbling coughs escaped, and then Walt inhaled deeply, finally able to breathe. He took a couple long gulps of air before lowering his arms. Through the darkness of the RV, Jesse could feel Walt's eyes on him, and though it was impossible to tell what kind of expression he was making, Jesse hoped it was one of awe, or at the very least curiosity.

"My aunt," he answered Walt's unspoken question. "When it got real bad— the doctor told her it would help."

"I'll have to remember that trick," Walt's voice was low and scratchy, still recovering. "Thank you, Jesse."

"No problem," Jesse replied, a bit uneasily. The sincerity in Walt's tone had thrown him for a loop. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," said Walt, in what had to be the most pathetic attempt at sounding reassuring of all time. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"It's okay," Jesse leaned back, deciding there was no point in drawing this out if Walt was determined to be a secretive bitch about it. He made up his mind to confront him if the coughs got any worse. "I wasn't asleep yet, anyway."

Hesitantly, Walt reclined as well. Whether he was reluctant to do so because of Jesse or the coughs was uncertain, although Jesse noted that he wasn't shrinking away from the divide in the middle of the cot like he had been before. 

It was impossible for Jesse not to think of Jane, and how he had spent the last several nights in her soft, comfortable arms. But Jesse wasn't an idiot, and Walt sure as hell wasn't about to be the big spoon, so he stayed on his side of the cot, no matter how fucking chilly it was under that fleece blanket, or how inviting he found the warmth radiating from Walt's back. Some part of Jesse knew, deep down, that if Walt woke up the following morning to find him curled up against him with his hands balled up in his shirt in search of comfort, he wouldn't say one damn thing about it. After all, it wasn't like he was used to sleeping alone either, being married and all, so maybe he was just as desperate for human contact at the moment as Jesse was. 

Even so, Jesse stayed on his side. There was no way he was going to be the one to inch towards the middle first. And in the morning, he'd find that the only touch he'd wake to would be from Walt's hand on his shoulder, roughly encouraging him to get back to work.

\--

Shit went to hell in a handbasket rather quickly, after that. It was strange how Jesse would find himself reminiscing over the days spent trapped in the RV, because as awful and dehydrating as they had been, they were downright pleasant compared to what his life was now.

Rehab had been quiet, lonely, and miserable. The only times Jesse had spoken were when he was prompted to answer questions by his group advisors, or the doctors, and his responses were always blunt and monosyllabic. Not once did Jesse think to try and strike up a conversation with any of the other patients. He knew he wasn't missing much. There wasn't a whole lot two recovering addicts could say to each other that didn't invoke shame and bitterness.

Then there was the fact that he couldn't stop thinking of Jane. She'd been colder than ice when he'd last touched her, meaning that she had been dead for hours, and he'd been lying next to her none the wiser, drugged out of his mind. Every night he felt the weight of her lifeless body at his side, and he was left sobbing and shaking for minutes on end, staring at the tiled ceiling until his head hurt too much to keep itself awake. Sometimes he wanted to scream at the memory of the dry vomit on her lips, but he knew it would only send the nurses rushing in and he wasn't about to give them any more reason to keep him locked up. 

Somehow, over the course of the month, Jesse managed to pull himself together. Or at least, he got himself to a point where he wasn't the snotty, trembling mess that Walt had left him there in.

They didn't say much to each other when Walt came to pick him up. Truthfully, Jesse didn't know if he was going to bring him back to the duplex or not, and his stomach sank with dread as the car pulled out onto the street. He never wanted to see the inside of his old bedroom again, and he didn't care if he had to beg and fall to tears at Walt's feet to convince him that he'd be safer at a motel, he would do it in a heartbeat to avoid having to set foot in that house.

His worrying turned out to be pointless, though. Walt ended up pulling the car into a completely different neighborhood, all bare-boned and full of rental apartments that didn't look like they were housing anyone. For a split second, Jesse worried that Walt had bought him a new place, another shackle of debt to chain them together, but he quickly realized from from the way Walt fumbled with his keys and avoided eye contact that this was _his_ current residence.

"Little friction in the marriage right now. Strictly temporary, we’re just— we’re just taking a little break." Walt said with forced optimism, gesturing towards the couch where Jesse would presumably be sleeping. He'd been acting so damn kind and supportive since Jane died that Jesse didn't know whether to laugh or cry over it. The worst thing was, it reminded him of high school, and how soft spoken and generally disappointed Walt had been with him back then. Jesse almost preferred the yelling and the insults, because at least that version of Walt was honest with him.

So, Walt was on the outs with his wife, and Jesse was mourning the loss of his girlfriend, and hundreds of people had died in a plane crash because of him. What a sorry ass pair they made. When Jesse expressed this particular viewpoint, owned up to being the villain, Walt had stared at him helplessly, floundering at the sincerity. He had to go out on an errand not long afterwards, leaving Jesse alone in the apartment.

There wasn't a TV in sight, and the only other source of possible entertainment would have been to root through Walt's boxes and suitcases in search of a book. Without thinking, Jesse reached for his phone, dialing Jane's number.

 _Please don't be deactivated yet,_ he prayed, rocking back and forth on his feet as it rang. _Please, please pick up._

The ringing stopped. There was a short breath, and then, miraculously, her voice. "Hey, if you're trying to sell me something I got four little words for you: Do Not Call List. However, if you're cool, leave it at the beep."

Jesse cradled the phone to his chest after hanging up. That message was all he had left of her. Quietly, he curled up on the couch and wept. For the first time in weeks, he didn't have to worry about how loud his sobs were getting, so he wailed his heart out, nearly retching on his own tears. He knew he would have to get his shit together before Walt got back, but in the meantime, he let himself fall apart.

At some point, Jesse's phone started ringing, drawing him out of the teary, half-asleep state he'd cried himself into. He didn't have to check the caller ID to know it was Walt.

"Since I'm out, what would you like for dinner? I'll pick something up."

Jesse mulled on this, thinking of all the junk food he'd missed in rehab. In the end, he settled on a cheeseburger and fries, because as much as he was itching for a burrito, he thought it'd be best to play it safe if they were going to be sharing one room. The situation was already awkward enough, there was no way in hell Jesse was going to introduce farts into the equation.

They ate in silence when Walt got back, both lost in thought and the cheap gratification of the meal. Walt made some kind of vague apology about not having a TV, and then fished out a laptop from one of his bags, offering it to Jesse if he wanted to watch anything. There was a hint of warning in his gaze as he handed it over, an unspoken _please do not soil my internet history with porn or give my computer a pop-up virus_. Jesse rolled his eyes and thanked him anyway. He looked up one of the safer websites to torrent movies from, scrolled through the documentaries, and then picked one at random. It turned out to be about penguins.

Carefully, Jesse put the laptop on the coffee table, curled his knees up to his chest, and then settled in. Walt spent the first fifteen minutes of the movie puttering around, doing something adjacent to cleaning, but eventually he got lured in by the quiet, factual remarks of the host. For a while, he hovered at the other end of the couch to watch the screen. It wasn't until Jesse very purposefully moved over to make room for him that he opted to sit down.

"You know, they mate for life," Walt mumbled, after a few minutes of silence. Jesse cast him a sideways glance, taking note of his softened, almost pained expression. "I've always admired that. The commitment."

"Dude," Jesse sighed, feeling sorry for him. "You're totally projecting on the penguins."

Walt laughed, which was _surreal_. It wasn't like Jesse had ever seen him laugh before, but it was still a rare enough occurrence that his heart hammered in his chest, thrilled.

"I think I actually preferred when she thought I was having an affair," Walt shook his head, looking helplessly towards the ceiling. "At least then I could have dealt with being the asshole. Because it wasn't true."

"Hey, she'll come around." Jesse hoped he sounded encouraging. "You've just gotta, like, wait it out, you know? It'll pass."

"Thanks," Walter muttered, and then dryly, he added, "I hope you're right."

They spent the rest of the evening in silence. Walt was of an age and career where heading to bed at ten o'clock was a completely normal thing, so Jesse did his best to respect that and tried to will himself to sleep, too. He stared at the ceiling until his eyes adjusted to the dark, and then he stared at the other side of the couch. From the angle he was lying at, Walt was hidden behind a wall, so Jesse couldn't see him, which was a relief. He could hear him, though, and all of his raspy breaths that weren't quite snores. Jesse was almost certain he was already asleep, and after an hour of tossing and turning, he got up.

Real stealthy like, he crept across the room and unlocked the front door. Slipping outside as quietly as humanly possible, Jesse flinched at the cold, but then settling into it. The air was crisp and clear, and almost out of spite, his entire body began itching for a cigarette. He didn't know this neighborhood, though, so there was no real point in setting out in search of a bodega to buy a pack. Plus there was some nagging part of him that worried if he gave in and smoked, he'd give in and get high.

Glancing over the balcony, Jesse's gaze landed on the communal pool, which was dark and empty. Well, if that wasn't an age old trick for maintaining sobriety, he didn't know what was. The fence was low enough for him to jump without a problem, so he did just that, shrugging out of his t-shirt and sweatpants as he went. He set them on a plastic chair before he jumped in, shivering as he padded barefoot on the pavement. It was late April, which wasn't exactly the warmest time of year for New Mexico, but it wasn't so cold that Jesse was willing to chicken out. He took a running jump in, not quite a cannonball, and let the lukewarm water engulf him.

Jesse had always liked pools. He'd grown up with one all his life, and couldn't think of a single summer from his childhood that didn't involve swimming out in the sun until his shoulders burned. Ever since high school, he'd favoured pool parties, loving the drunken splash fights and the way the safety lights looked underwater when he was stoned out of his mind. Most of all, Jesse loved the feeling of floating, the feeling of easily gliding through something. His parents had made him do swimming lessons up until he was ten, and despite all the other extra-curricular bullshit they had shoved down his throat, he had always appreciated it. Badger, and Skinny Pete were the kind of guys who couldn't doggy-paddle for shit, and Jesse had always loved being able to swim circles around them.

His chest hitched as he did a lap around the pool, thinking of Combo. He had liked being the water just as much as Jesse, though he had always been more prone to floating on an inner tube with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other. Jesse could picture him now, clear as day, wearing one of his tacky bucket hats with a styrofoam cup of soda balanced on his stomach, muttering some sarcastic comment under his breath as he traced his fingers over the water's surface. The sudden return of the grief that had followed his death was so heavy that it sunk Jesse to the bottom of the pool like a rock. Pairing that with the loss of Jane, Jesse couldn't stop himself from howling in pain and anger, letting the sound get swallowed up by the water. He yelled until he tasted chlorine, then swam to the edge of the pool, bracing himself against the wall as he drew up for breath.

Walt was standing just a few feet to his left, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He was wearing a housecoat over his pajamas, and those ridiculous loafers, twiddling his car keys in his hand. The way he was standing, all tense and shaky, implied that he was clearly agitated. _Worried._

"What? Thought I ran off to get high again?" Jesse guessed, and he couldn't bring himself to sound offended. "Some vote of confidence."

Walt snapped his mouth shut, not bothering to deny it. After a moment, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I thought maybe you went out to smoke. Then I remembered all that stuff you said earlier about blaming yourself for the crash— I got concerned."

Pulse racing, Jesse had to look away, unsure that he could handle meeting Walt's gaze when he was being genuine. He focused on a drop of water gliding over his tattooed wrist, choosing his next words carefully.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," he finally mumbled, resting his head against forearms. "I don't wanna die, or whatever."

From the corner of his eye, he caught Walt shudder in relief. "Good, Jesse, that's– I mean, that's the only way to move forward. To move on."

"Well, duh. Can't move much when you're dead." Jesse tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. At least he could blame it on the pool water if his eyes looked red around the edges.

"Jesse," Walt started, but then faltered. He glanced back up towards the apartments, looking hesitant. "You know, the pool's supposed to be closed after nine."

This time, Jesse really did laugh. He pushed himself away from the edge, wading backwards into the deep end. "Since when do you care about the rules?"

Walt rolled his eyes. "You'll get cold."

"Just give me a few more minutes," Jesse pleaded, hoping he didn't sound too desperate. "I can't sleep, alright?"

"Neither can I," Walter sighed, but he sat down on the pavement anyway.

It was hard to say how much time they spent like that, with Jesse quietly swimming laps and Walter watching him, both lost in their own thoughts. As he floated, Jesse looked up at the stars, making out what few clusters he could through all the light pollution. It was kind of hard to appreciate the night sky in the city after seeing how beautiful it could get out in the desert.

He caught Walt's eye as he looked down, watching him with an innocent kind of interest. So Jesse stared back, raising an eyebrow. A game of chicken, in its own way. The corner of Walter's lip twitched upwards, but he held his gaze.

"Cold yet?" Walt asked, smiling a little.

"No," Jesse lied, stubbornly fighting back a shiver. "Are you?"

"Yes," Walt kept smiling, which softened up his entire face. It reminded Jesse of high school again, but only the good bits. There had been a few lessons where Walt had actually engaged his attention, where Jesse had caught himself thinking _Mr. White's alright_ , before inevitably losing focus and getting annoyed with him again. Walt got to his feet, dragging Jesse out of the memory. "Come on, let's try and get some rest."

It was meant to be a suggestion, not an order, but Jesse felt it pull him like a hook in the pit of his stomach. He swam over to the edge and lifted himself out of the water with his arms, teeth chattering as his wet skin was freshly exposed to the cool breeze. Walt went and got his clothes off the chair for him, wordlessly offering Jesse his t-shirt. Jesse threw it on without caring about how soaked it would get, just needing something to cover up with. Watching Walt hop the fence was highly entertaining, but Jesse was no more graceful in his dripping boxers and bare feet. The way Walt was carrying his shoes and pants for him made Jesse snort under his breath.

"I feel like some drunk chick you're bringing home," he explained when Walt glanced his way. "I mean, what would the neighbors think?"

"Who knows," Walt shrugged as they headed up the stairs. "I never planned on meeting them. If this _situation_ with my wife draws out, I'll have to find a better apartment."

"Two beds might be nice," Jesse mused. "Maybe even two rooms."

Unlocking the door, Walt laughed tonelessly as he turned on the lights. "You'd be a terrible roommate."

"Wasn't offering," Jesse bristled, feeling embarrassed and alarmed by even the idea. He shoved Walt's shoulder with his own as he walked past him, knowing it would be damp where he hit him. "Dickhead."

"Take a shower," Walt yawned, ignoring the jab. "Can't have the couch reeking of chlorine."

"Because you're _so_ committed to maintaining the quality of this place." Jesse grumbled, but he headed for the bathroom anyway, grabbing a clean change of clothes as he went.

The shower actually was kind of relaxing, and it helped him warm up again. Walt's soap smelled nice, kind of flowery. It wasn't the kind of cheap, scentless stuff that Jesse was used to, but it still didn't smell like Walt. Jesse guessed that whatever sandalwood, Old Spice nonsense he usually caught on the guy was his aftershave. A nervous laugh bubbled out of him as he considered how that was a weirdly intimate thing to know. He wondered, briefly, what Walt thought he smelled like. Probably not that great, if Badger and Skinny Pete were anything to go by. On a good day, Jesse figured he probably stunk of skunk weed, nachos, and cigarettes.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he was only a little bit surprised to find that Walt had waited up for him, sitting on the couch with a bunch of papers scattered across the coffee table. There was a red pen in his hand, but it didn't look like he had actually gotten to marking that much— Walt was the kind of guy who liked to pretend he was being productive even when he wasn't. In what had to be a deliberate choice, he only glanced up at Jesse as he approached, feigning focus on his task.

Gracelessly, Jesse flung himself down on the couch next to him, not really giving a shit when their arms and shoulders collided. If anything, he leaned into the contact, breaching Walt's personal space, hoping to get the message across.

"How am I supposed to sleep with your old ass hogging the couch?" Jesse smirked when Walt turned to frown at him. The action brought their faces uncomfortably close. Hell, Jesse probably could've counted his eyelashes. "Beat it, or I'm taking the bed."

"If that's what you want, then go for it." Walt said, forcefully keeping his tone unamused. "Of course, I'm still recovering from surgery, so if you're really comfortable putting an _old_ , feeble man out—"

"Oh my god, shut up." Jesse rolled his eyes, shoving Walt without much force. Walt couldn't keep up his frown as Jesse swatted at him, and his lips shifted into an easy grin, which made Jesse's stomach twist. "You're not dying anymore, asshole, so quit guilt tripping me."

"I'm always dying," Walt pointed out, catching Jesse's wrist with one hand before he could hit him in the chest again. The gentleness of his touch made Jesse's skin crawl, and suddenly he was overcome with the memory of Walt's hands on his face, cradling him, hopelessly shaking him back to sobriety. "With the cancer gone, I'm just moving at a much slower pace."

Swallowing hard, Jesse pulled his arm away. "We're all dying, Mr. White. No need to be such a bitch about it."

"Sorry," Walt murmured, realizing he was being insensitive. He finally stood up, casting a light look at Jesse over his shoulder before he walked across the room and disappeared behind the dividing wall. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." Jesse grunted, stubbornly blinking back tears. He did _not_ need to be crying about the idea of Walt dying on him, too.

Unsurprisingly, Jesse's mind was just as restless when the lights went out again. He tossed and turned, tried lying at every possible angle to get himself comfortable, but it was to no avail. For some unfathomable reason, he couldn't stop thinking about Walt's fingers on his wrist, gentle and familiar. Recalling the nights in the RV, Jesse remembered the desire to curl into Walt's side, to hold onto him for warmth. Worst of all, he couldn't stop thinking about how Walt had held him in the crackhouse— petting his hair, comforting him as he wept uselessly in his arms.

Jesse was craving that intimacy now, and it was humiliating. There was no way Walt would welcome him into his bed, and he definitely wasn't going to rock him to sleep like he was some kind of oversized child. Even so, Jesse mulled on the idea, considering the consequences of just getting up and lying down next to Walt without asking. If he was still feeling sorry for him, would he really be pissed off enough to make him leave?

Hesitantly, Jesse let his feet hover over the floor. For a long moment, he contemplated the potential stupidity of this idea, and then he got up and crossed the room. But because fate was out to get him, he tripped over one of Walt's many boxes of personal belongings that he couldn't see in the dark, wiping out hard on the carpet at the foot of Walt's bed.

The bedside lamp clicked on. Walt had obviously heard him. "Jesse?"

"Yo," Jesse mumbled from the floor, feeling like an idiot. "I, uh, fell."

"You fell?" Walt asked, probably sitting up judging by the way his sheets shuffled. "How on earth did you manage that?'

Jesse rolled over so he was on his back, covering his face in his hands. He was _not_ going to cry. This was already way too embarrassing. "I don't know. Probably tripped over one of your boxes of shit."

"What were you even doing over here?" Walt got out of the bed, his footsteps drawing too close for comfort. Jesse peeked up at him from between his fingers, relieved to find Walt didn't look angry, only a little baffled.

"It's just—" Jesse huffed, willing himself to sound less pathetic. "I don't wanna be alone, man. Rehab was so fucking lonely. Not saying I ain't grateful and all, I know I needed to get clean. But I guess I kind of forgot how to sleep by myself without bawling my eyes out."

The nerves of the confession had made Jesse look anywhere but Walt's face as he spoke, but when he finished, he risked a glance at him. There was something so guilty in Walt's expression that Jesse's heart plummeted in his chest, and they shared a moment of quiet anguish.

"It's okay, Jesse." Walt said, knowing that even if it wasn't true, Jesse needed to hear it. He leaned down, extending his hand to offer Jesse help to his feet. "Here."

Jesse took his hand without hesitation, letting himself get pulled to his feet, going a little limp when he was finally standing. In what was partially a lack of balance and partially full intention, he stumbled forward half a step, falling against Walt's chest. Neither of them moved for a moment, and then Walt lightly squeezed their joined hands before letting go. Jesse didn't even have time to be disappointed because both of Walt's arms were suddenly looping around his upper back, hugging him.

"Just for tonight," Jesse mumbled into Walt's shoulder, leaning into the touch, burrowing his hands into Walt's shirt at the small of his back. "I know it's unfair, but you're kinda all I got."

"You don't have to apologize." Walt murmured, one hand cupping the back of Jesse's head, nearly petting his hair.

"Ugh," Jesse sniffed, trying very hard not to cry. "How gay do you think we look right now?"

Walt laughed, though it sounded a little sad. His hot breath against Jesse's cheek was enough to make his hair stand on edge.

"Sorry," Jesse repeated, finally breaking out of the hug. He rubbed his cheeks with the back of his wrists, checking for tears. Walt still hovered around him, his hands raised like he was expecting Jesse to fall back into his arms at any moment. Instead, Jesse flung himself on the bed, settling himself on the left side because he knew Walt liked to be on the right. "And, uh, thanks. For everything."

Walt shook his head, clearly lost for words. He climbed onto his side of the mattress while Jesse got under the covers, and then the bedside light was off before Jesse's head hit the pillow. They lay with their backs facing each other, just like they had in the RV. To focus on something other than his own thoughts, Jesse listened to Walt's breathing, steady and deep. It was just quick enough that Jesse was sure there would be some kind of difference when Walt was actually asleep.

Somehow, Jesse drifted off. When he opened his eyes again, it was still dark, probably not even five in the morning. There was an arm around his waist, and a body against his back that was definitely _not_ Jane's. The strangest thing was, Jesse didn't panic when he remembered it was Walt he was lying next to. Barely conscious, he turned over so that they were facing each other. Walt didn't stir. His arm reflexively curled with Jesse's movement, hooking him in closer. Their faces were close enough that Jesse could feel his breath on his lips.

Even though Jesse was fading fast, his heart raced for a minute. Walt probably thought he was holding his wife. Always one to be prone to his own self destruction, Jesse tilted his head forwards, just enough so that their chins grazed against each other, noses bumping. He missed kissing Jane in the early hours of the morning. He wondered if Walt missed his wife. It was so easy to pretend that all of this didn't mean anything in the dark.

Walt's hand flexed against his hip, slowly rubbing in circles. Jesse groaned, still half asleep, the touch making him uncomfortably aware of how pent up he'd been for the past month. He'd tried jerking off to the memory of Jane one night in rehab, and he'd cried for hours afterwards, sick with himself. Since then, he'd been blue-balling his way through every semi he'd popped at random, or any morning wood he'd woken up with, which were few and far between as it was.

Experimentally, Jesse leaned his hips in until he could just barely feel Walt's groin against his own. His body twitched closer on its own accord, horny and desperate.

Nothing could have prepared him for the way Walt reacted. Immediately, the arm he had slung over Jesse's waist was pulling him in closer, his open mouth scraping over Jesse's lower lip and chin in a breathless kiss. Sleepily, hungrily, Jesse angled their mouths properly, kissing him back. It was all teeth and tongue, and satisfyingly sloppy. Walt grunted into it, an undeniably masculine sound, which was also an unexpected turn on. Jesse started grinding up against him for friction, wanting more.

"Bad idea," Walt moaned, and Jesse's heart stuttered because he was so clearly _awake_. Despite his words, Walt snaked a hand up Jesse's shirt, running his fingers over his stomach and chest. "We should stop."

"No," Jesse gasped, their hips colliding at just the right angle. " _Fuck_ , I need this, and so do you. Just admit it."

Walt hummed, and it wasn't a disagreement. His hand came back to Jesse's waist, and then he began grinding back against him so that there were dry humping like a couple of teenagers. Their pace became surreally rhythmic, almost like a dance. Jesse whined, high and frantic, as they sped up with every shared thrust.

Every muscle in Jesse's body tensed when Walt suddenly pulled away, but he wasn't starved for contact for long. Walt left a trail of kisses around his neck and jaw, and then one of his hands found the waistband of Jesse's boxers, palming over his erection so deliberately that Jesse nearly choked.

"Wait," he panted, grabbing Walt's wrist before he could work his hand into his underwear. "Get yours out, too."

With another low grunt, Walter did as he asked, and Jesse set his own dick loose in the meantime. It rubbed up against the covers as he pulled it out, and the sensory difference made Jesse's head spin. He let out some kind of obscene sound when Walt's fingers curled around it, and couldn't believe how turned on he got when he felt Walt's dick rub against his own. Walt was holding the two of them flush against each other in one hand. Jesse was so out of his mind with horniness that he could barely take into account the differences between the two of them, the height and width and whatnot.

"This what you wanted?" Walt asked, feigning composure. Jesse could tell from the way he was rasping out every breath that he was just as turned on.

Unable to answer, Jesse jolted his hips forwards, and yeah, the friction between their bare skin was so much better. He started bucking up and down while Walt raked his hand over both their dicks, jerking them off in tandem. It was unbelievably hot. The best thing was, it felt so _easy_ , like they'd just fallen into it with no expectations, no strings attached. Jesse knew he'd have to switch things up, otherwise it'd be over too quickly.

With as much intent as he could muster, he pushed Walt's shoulder, prompting him to lie on his back. Walt did so without complaint, releasing his hold on both their dicks, groaning softly when Jesse rewarded him with another quick thrust. Gathering himself, Jesse swung one leg over Wall, climbing on top of him. He held the headboard of the bed to steady himself, staring down at the faint shape of Walt's face that he could make out in the dark. Now all their junk was pressed together, balls and all. The change in position made it so that Jesse could feel the head of Walt's dick against his taint, which was kind of nice in a weird way, but he reached down to angle them together again, jerking slowly into it.

If there had been any doubt in his mind that Walt hadn't been enjoying this, it vanished in that moment. He grabbed Jesse's hips like he was holding on for dear life, immediately starting up their previous rhythm, though it was faster now, and more desperate than ever. Every buck of his hips was strong enough that Jesse lifted off of him by a couple centimeters, not quite airborne, but damn was it ever satisfying when their skin connected again after the brief separation. Eventually, it got to a point where Jesse couldn't keep himself balanced, and he slumped out of the cowboy and into the missionary, his arms falling to Walt's chest, their faces close. The rhythm of his thrusts got a little jittery, too, given that he was so close to blowing his load. This time when Walt kissed him, it was chaste, gentle, even. Jesse's heart felt like it was doing somersaults.

"Almost there," Walt mumbled, his hand settling on the nape of Jesse's neck. Their hips rocked together again, and he let out a small hum of satisfaction. "That's it, Jesse. Come on. That's it, son."

"Mr. White," Jesse gasped, because as horrible and twisted as it was, _this_ was what was getting him off. The fact that he was here, on top of his old high school chemistry teacher, his business partner, motherfucking _Heisenberg_ , and he was making him beg for it. He'd made Walt want him. He'd made him care. "I'm gonna— shit, I don't think I can—"

Walt's thumb stroked the side of Jesse's cheek, soft and reassuring. "It's alright."

Shakily, Jesse halted mid thrust, but he didn't come. Instead, he brought himself down hard against Walt's dick, grinding his entire lower half against him in one long, deliberate motion. Walt came with a start, just as Jesse had hoped he would. It wasn't until after Jesse could feel the warm, sticky mess of Walt's load between their stomachs, and after a few more humps, that he came, too. His orgasm shot all the way up his spine and down to the tips of his toes.

Trembling, Jesse let his head fall into the crook of Walt's neck, faintly mouthing over his salty skin. After they'd both recovered, and their breathing was somewhat normal again, Jesse sat up in Walt's lap. He tugged at Walt's shirt until Walt sat up, sleepily allowing Jesse to pull it off over his shoulders. When Jesse used it to clean up the mess, Walt groaned in annoyance.

"What?" Jesse snorted, tossing the shirt onto the floor. "It was already stained."

To retaliate, Walt grabbed the ends of Jesse's shirt and yanked it up. Jesse wrangled himself out of it without complaint.

"Fifty-fifty." Walt said reasonably, and Jesse nearly laughed. They lay back down, Jesse rolling back onto his side of the bed, but he kept their limbs fairly entangled. Walt was running his fingers up and down his arm in a gentle pattern, lulling him to sleep.

In the morning, it would be awkward, and they'd pretend it never happened, or that it hadn't really meant anything. Just two guys blowing off steam. So Jesse let himself feel relieved, let himself cling to Walt's body, let himself sleep with his lips pressed against his neck. Because Walt was holding him right back, feeling just the same even if he'd never admit it, clinging onto Jesse just as desperately. And out of everything else they'd fucked up, this felt like it was far from the worst of it.


End file.
